


Ding Dong Ding Dong

by chemicalburnfromthespiralperm



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 00:52:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9048808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chemicalburnfromthespiralperm/pseuds/chemicalburnfromthespiralperm
Summary: Christmas Bells are ringing.  Sometimes, home is a person.Sam and Dean celebrate Christmas.





	

Sometimes, home is a person.

Dean's heard this phrase a million times before and he knows how it could apply to his own life, but god damn - he never really understood what it mean until just now.

It's pouring rain in Lebanon, Kansas, so when Dean falls through the door on Christmas Eve, he's soaked.  Fuck umbrellas, and fuck rain and fuck Macy's on Christmas Eve.  It was his own damn fault for waiting to buy Sam's Christmas present until the last god damn minute.  He does this every year like he doesn't know Christmas is coming 364 days in advanced.  It always manages to knock him on his ass.

When he's finally inside and downstairs with all of his gifts (wrapped courtesy of Sears even though he bought everything from Macy's), the smell hits him.  It smells like Christmas.  There's some gay pine-scented candle burning on the table, along with an actual Christmas tree set up.  It's nothing fancy, a little Charlie Brown tree, but it's their tree and he finds himself smiling despite being cold and wet.  Sam's got the heater cranked and if Dean really listens, he can hear Sam singing from the kitchen.

He diligently sets about placing the presents beneath the trees boughs, because it must be perfect.

Dean feels lucky that Sam didn't hear him come in.  When he reaches the kitchen, Sam is decorating cookies.  He still hasn't seen him.  Johnny Mathis is crooning in the background and Sam is singing off key, so Dean thinks this is the perfect time to interrupt.  He still feels slightly nervous touching Sam, and honestly, he always has and probably always will.  Maybe that's how you know it's real love?  Who knows.  It's been years since they've been...  whatever it is they are, and he still shakes when his hands reach up to rest on Sam's waist.

Sam doesn't even flinch -- it's like he knew Dean was there.  Dean can just barely see Sam's huge grin from behind all that hair.  He's thrilled, still singing along softly to whatever spotify channel is playing over the bluetooth.

"Hey, you."

"Hey.  Missed you."

"Pfft.  No you didn't."

"Did, too, Sammy.  C'mere."

"Missed you, too."

Dean uses his hands to turn Sam around in his arms.  He's so happy to see Sam's eyes, his face, his pointy nose and that ugly chin.  It makes his face flush, especially when Sam leans down to kiss him.  Sam tastes like cookie dough and frosting.  Dean's not surprised.

"What'd you get me for Christmas, Sammy?" Dean says, his hands moving around to Sam's lower back while Sam's arms move to wrap around Dean's neck.  "Hope it's beer."

"I didn't get you anything for Christmas.  I don't like you."

"Well, that makes _this_ really awkward."

Sam laughs this time, bright and glow-y, and it makes Dean grin.  He kisses Dean again, reassuring and deep, and suddenly Dean's not cold anymore.

"I got you something you'll love, but we're not opening presents until tomorrow.  Go change your clothes and come help me finish frosting these cookies."

"Maybe," Dean says, shrugging and leaning into Sam more than he should, "I'll get lucky and get to frost something else."

"Ah, yes - the rest of the cookies.  Good idea."

"Hey, it's Christmas!  At least give me somethin', man!"

"You already know you're gonna get Christmas sex."

"That's not the point!  At least tease a guy!"

Sam's laugh is worth making an ass out himself for.  He's hoping Sam feels the hard lump in his pocket - and no, it's not what you think.

"Go get changed and maybe I'll have sex with you on the table."

"Yeah, yeah," but Dean obliges without much effort.  It's like his body is hardwired to give Sam whatever he wants, including a ring.  Sam never asked for one, but Dean can tell he's ready.  They might never have the kids Sam wants, but at least Dean can give him some of the life he wants.

His bedroom door shuts behind him with a snuff and he sets about changing into something comfier.  He's got comfy sweat pants and one of Sam's giant, over-sized hoodies and he's set, comfy and warm.  His hands shake as he pulls the red velvet box from his jean pocket before letting them fall to the ground.  It's a simple band, rose gold, expensive...  but it's perfect.  Sam deserves a castle but all Dean's got is a beat up Chevy Impala and a secret bunker.  It'll do.

He slips the box into the pocket of his dead guy robe and makes for the door.

Sam's coming out of his own bedroom across the way with his arms full of gifts.  He wants to roll his eyes, say, "Sammy!  We set a $150 limit for a reason!  No more than three gifts!  That's more than three!" but Sam looks so pleased with himself that he doesn't say anything.

"You gonna watch or help?"

Dean holds his hands up in surrender.

"Hey, I followed the $150, three gift limit rule."

He obliges, though, he helps.

Today, there's no Mary.  There's no Castiel and there are no monsters and there are no demons or gremlins trying to kill them.  It's Christmas Eve, and thank Christ, the community has left them alone for the day.

They've never had Christmas here before.  They've been here how many years and have never had a real Christmas?

Sam and Dean get the gifts under the tree and collapse onto the couch.  The study is cozy and quiet, not quite as industrial as the rest of the bunker, but softer.  Quieter.  Sam lays his head across Dean's lap, gets almost too comfy and Dean chuckles a little bit.  His eyes slip shut and Dean cards his fingers through his hair.

"Hey.  Do something for me, ya?"

Sam hums softly, content.  "What?"

"Marry me."

Sam's eyes shoot open as Dean reaches into his pocket and pulls out the box.

Sam isn't tired anymore, clearly, and when he sits up, Dean takes his chance to get in front of him on one knee.

"I don't...  you know I don't do this.  I don't know what this is.  I don't know what to think, or how to feel.  Everyone we've ever known that shouldn't know is dead, and if they didn't know they do now.  I...  You are more to me than my brother.  You always have been.  I've always loved you in a way I didn't understand, and I've only just started to realize that I don't need to.  I...  I love you."

Sam is crying, a tear slipping down his cheek.  Dean has never said it before.

"I love you, and I want you to marry me.  So...  say yes or something.  Shut me up.  I don't know, Sam, I-"

He's cut off when Sam leans forward and captures his lips in a kiss.  Safe, sound, secure.

"Of course.  Of course I will.  Yes.   _Yes_."

Sam wraps his arms around Dean's neck and joins Dean on his knees.  They're the same height down here, makes it easier for Dean to kiss him as he opens the box and slides the ring onto Sam's finger.

"Yes.  I love you, too."

"Merry Christmas, Sammy."


End file.
